FateSilent Cries
by SnowyRefuge
Summary: In the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War, the last two servants managed to kill one another, and Shirou was unable to take down Kirei, who died years later. Now, coming back into the world with a third chance, Saber and her new partner must defeat six other teams of servants, one of which being the all-too familiar Gilgamesh and his new, blind "master".
1. Prologue

**The name will more than likely change, so ideas are welcomed, as are reviews.**

**Warning: Gilgamesh is now subject to being more of an abusive ass hole than usual. I swear to God that I have a reason, though.**

**Prologue**

The walls were a barren white, much to his distaste, and the shelves were decorated with little more than furs of animals or candles. Hanging above him were wind chimes, their long bodies swaying steadily with the movements of the ceiling fan, right next to his head. Their noise was soft, a quiet twinkling that was just barely there, sitting in the back of his head. Frankly, he found it to be an annoyance.

There, off in the corner of the room, at a desk, sat a young woman, head bent over a book, long black hair falling over her eyes, fingers resting on the pages and moving ever so slowly. Next to her hand, a water bottle and a stone of sorts, scratched beyond belief and as seemingly ancient as the world itself.

The blonde man stood there in the center of the room, arms crossed over the golden armor that adorned his chest, as if waiting for something. He watched the woman, almost impatiently, his eyes nearly burning a hole into her back as she read. She seemed not to notice, focused on the words on the page in front of her.

Something sounded from a room next to the one they were in, an alarm of sorts. The woman's head lifted slightly, fingers lingering on the page of the book, before she placed it down, open on the desk in front of her, and pushed herself out of her chair. She walked, slowly towards the door, her back always to the man.

Impatient, the he finally unfolded his arms and took a step towards her as she reached the door.

Although it was quiet, it seemed that the woman had seemed to have heard the sound of metal rubbing against metal and froze, hand resting on the doorknob. Slowly, she slipped a pair of flats from her feet, placed them neatly against the wall next to the door, and turned around.

There was a sharp turn of her feet, quickly, mechanically, and then she raised a hand, fluidly, and the water seemed to erupt from the bottle that sat on her desk.

When the water splashed onto his armor, the man looked down to see that it hand frozen on his thigh. Unimpressed, he looked back up to the woman, and took notice that her eyes were closed.

"Who's there?" She demanded, loudly. She found a switch next to the doorframe, turned one downwards, and the ceiling fan stopped. Eventually, so did the tinkling of her wind chimes. Slowly, she bounced on the balls of her feet, alert, and her head moved around the room, as if surveying with her unopened eyes. "I really don't want to have to hurt anyone, but I swear to God that if you make one move, I _will_ attack."

The man merely clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, annoyed as he saw a red marking on her forehead, just barely noticeable behind the curtain of her bangs. "You pathetic little mongrel," he said. "What makes you think you have the right to summon the King here before you?"

Something strange seemed to flicker over her eyebrows. Her hands were still held in front of her, as if in some strange defensive movement, and her feet now seemed a part of the ground, moving only in small, adjusting twitches. "What are you talking about? Get out of my house now!"

This lowly girl could not possibly be his master, he thought. She couldn't even identify his location when he was standing right in front of her, much less fight a battle. He took a step toward her, one of the long wind chimes that was in his way twinkling once again as he brushed by it.

Immediately, her foot kicked forward, and the wooden floors in front of the man's feet seemed to move apart into a sharp, spear-like projectile that would have surely impaled his leg, had he not been wearing armor.

He continued to walk forward, the chimes echoing around him as he did. With each step he took, more of the wooden flooring went with it, used as a meaningless weapon. "Impudent peasant!" He bellowed as he came closer. "To attack the King is a crime punishable by beheading, I will have to know!"

As the woman finally realized that he attacks were doing nothing to stop the man, she moved backwards, pressing her back against the door with her hand on the door knob, trying with all her might to force her trembling hand to turn it until, finally, he was in front of her. Forcefully, he grabbed the bangs that covered her forehead and pulled them upwards, ignoring her sharp cry of pain, and observed the markings that laid there.

Several "V" and circular shapes that formed into one, intricate symbol. It was easily recognized by him as the familiar style of the command seals he become accustomed to seeing while he stayed in this time period. Frustrated, he took her head and banged it roughly against the door. Not hard enough to kill, even though it did draw blood.

He let go of her head, and she slid down the door, leaving a trail of blood on its wooden surface, and landed on her trembling knees, holding the back of her head with both hands. Although her eyes were still left unopened, the terror that crossed the woman's face would have been recognizable from a mile away.

_What a pitiful woman_, he observed as tears began to formulate at the corner of her eyes. "You don't even understand what is happening," he said, aggravated not necessarily at her, but at the fact that he had been forced into this wretched situation with _her_ holding all the cards.

A faint glowing began to come from her hands, and he knew she was beginning to heal herself. "You seem competent in healing magic," he observed. "That, at the very least, is acceptable."

Her head moved up, towards the sound of his voice, and he could see the tight line of her jaw as she clenched her teeth, the dark line of her eyebrows as they creased in anger. "What the Hell are you talking about, you son of a bi-"

She was quickly shut up with a kick to the stomach. As the woman crouched over, cradling her injured body with her arms, the man left her, instead opting to study the objects left on her desk. Her book, its surface covered in small bumps, her water bottle, left dripping on its side, the old stone, untouched. He picked it up, turned it over in his gloved hands. It appeared to be the remains of what was once a strong material, now corroded over with time.

A fragment from the ancient walls of Uruk. It must have been the relic used for his summoning.

He looked back at the woman, who was now struggling to her feet, using the wall next to her to balance her. "What are you trying to do, woman?" He sneered at her, repulsed by this weakling's constant attempts to be strong.

"I wanted to ask you the same thing," she replied. He could feel her eyes, still remaining closed, as they stared emptily through her eyelids. "I know you're sickened by me." Her face, upturned by curiosity, yet withheld from an acute feeling of fear. "Why not just kill me?"

The golden man stared at her- her slanted eyelids, her taught jawline, and those black snakes of eyebrows- for a moment before deciding to ignore her question. "Where are we, mongrel?"

Her frown deepened, but then she decided that she was in no position to be asking questions of her own. "In my apartment, in Idaho." She paused for a moment. "You're not from this world, are you?"

"Incorrect," he sneered, walking back towards this weak human that he was now being forced to work with. "I am not from this _time_, filthy human, and if you wish to speak to me, you must refer to me as your _King_." At the sound of his feet clicking on the floor, her head turned upwards. "Bow before me _peasant_."

Her eyebrows adjusted to a mix of confused anger. "You want me to do what-"

He took the top of her head in the palm of his hand and forced her face to the ground, pleased to hear the sound of her nose cracking under the pressure. Even after he released her, she stayed down, fear, more than likely, keeping her there.

"Now you may rise."

Slowly, she sat up on her knees, head bent down.

"What is your name?"

"Iris Masujima," she said, voice but a quivering whisper.

He didn't bother to hide his laughter. Iris! What an unsuitable name for a blind woman!

Iris sat, her sightless eyes watching the floor as he laughed to his heart's content. She never even looked up when he had finally halted in his laughter.

After a short silence, and more than a moment's worth of hesitation, the woman spoke again, quietly. "May I ask what your name is…?"

The man stared down at her, chin held high, barely even bothering to sink his eyes down to look upon her small form. "I am the King of Uruk, Gilgamesh," he told her, loud and prideful. "And I have come to fight in the Holy Grail War, to reclaim what is most definitely mine." He narrowed his eyes as he noticed her shoulders beginning to shake with some sort of recognition. "Tremble all you wish, woman, but you had better prove yourself useful."

The rise of a smell, akin to that of smoke, rose to his nose, and he grimaced. "Get rid of that revolting smell, but after that you will pack your bags and collect all the money you have. We leave for Japan tomorrow morning."

This being said, he seemed to vanish into a golden flurry of dust, but the woman, not knowing this, stayed there on the floor for several minutes, the smell of her burning food rising through the air like a fire drifting through a field of mice, before weakly standing on her feet and moving to the kitchen, holding her broken and bleeding nose in her hand, all the while.


	2. Chapter 1

**No. No, we won't see Iris abuse 24/7, mainly because I'm just a troll and felt like torturing my characters (lol, jk). Just keep in mind that Gilgamesh is a very frustrated one-third man at the moment, and then couple that with the fact that I'm basing a large portion of his personality off of that in the Unlimited Blade Works movie (where he's pretty much as sadistic, violent, and evil as he can possibly get)****.**

**Also, on a side note, I've just decided to keep the name as Fate/Silent Cries. It has a nice ring to it, and I think it fits well with what I have planned so far.**

**One more thing: If no one has noticed my change in summary, there's been a slight change in what I originally had planned for this. 'K thanks, bye!**

**Disclaimer: The Fate/series isn't mine, but the cover _is_ of my own design.**

**Chapter 1**

_September 4_

_8:50 AM_

"_Be mine, you insatiable woman!"_

_Once again, a sword dove into her shoulder. Another one was coming in quickly, this time aimed for a higher area. Using all of her strength, Saber whipped Excalibur higher into the air to block the attack, which would have surely gone through her stomach if it had landed._

_More were still coming, though, a large wave of weapons that seemed never-ending. Saber grit her teeth through all of it, blocking and dodging as many blades as possible while the wave continued. By the time Gilgamesh had decided to close his Gate, an axe had lodged its way into her thigh and several spears and swords had nicked her arms. She had nearly been decapitated by a scythe towards the end._

_Breathing heavily, she tore the axe and sword from her body and raced forward with a brilliant battle cry, Excalibur held high above her head. Gilgamesh, in response, grabbed hold of the first sword he could find and used it to block the attack. The blades screeched together in unison before Saber withdrew and swiftly aimed for her adversary's abdomen._

_Saber's leg and arm injuries only proved to slow her down, and so Gilgamesh easily pushed the attack back. She stumbled back a few feet before her legs failed her, and she collapsed onto her knees, holding onto the gaping wound on her thigh. Gritting her teeth, she looked up, only to find the heel of her enemy's boot in her face. _

_With a furious cry, Saber fell onto her back, left breathing even more heavily than before, chest heaving up and down in quick, rapid gasps._

_Gilgamesh grinned down at her, impressed to see how she still managed to retain that spirit in her emerald eyes. "Rejoice, Saber!" He exclaimed exuberantly, spreading his arms wide in enthusiasm. Saber tried to ignore him and stand up, but the golden king would not allow such a thing; he kept her down by driving his foot into her stomach, just below her rib cage. Suddenly, her breath was completely gone, and she was using her hands to desperately clutch the golden armor of his boot, which only dug into her skin even more deeply._

"_Rejoice…?!" She panted out, teeth grinding together in pain as she squirmed under him and attempted to push his foot off of her. "Rejoice for _what_?"_

"_For a new life, at my side, of course!" Saber could not help but feel frightened at the look of insane bliss that flooded his eyes as they widened with his words._

"_Like I would ever do such a thing!" She growled, and finally decided to spit at him, but it only went as far as to land on the armor covering his leg._

_The golden king's smug expression left his face, only to be replaced with disgust at the level of disrespect that his object of affections had shown him. Blood red eyes narrowed, he removed his foot from the woman and leapt back a few feet as Saber regained her composure, taking in ragged gulps of air which now came to her much more easily. Shakily, she stood, only to suddenly feel something tearing at her for a long, agonizing moment that left her clutching at her heart for no more than a few seconds._

_And then it was gone._

_That smug look was back on the King of Heroes' face as he took in her reaction. "Interesting," he observed as Saber stared wide-eyed at the walls of the shrine at which they fought, wishing desperately that she could see through them in order to prove that what she thought she had just felt was only her imagination. "When _my_ master died in the fourth war, I never had such a reaction." He shrugged, and Saber's angry eyes found him, wide in rage. His smile widened. "But no matter. You only become that much more beautiful with each new burden you bear on your shoulders."_

_As a challenge, he drew Ea from his Gate of Babylon._

_And Saber gratefully accepted that challenge._

Saber's eyes opened, and she found herself lying down on a futon in the middle of the dimly lit room that she remembered her new master assigning her after her summoning the night before.

She sat up slowly and stared at the blankets that currently covered her, thinking back to the memory she had just witnessed in her dream. It had been ten years now, but it still felt as if it was but a day ago, and it probably had to do with the fact that in the realm she was in during those years, time itself is at a standstill. She is left on a hill of rotten corpses with nothing to think about but the past, and since this latest defeat had been the closest in her memory, it was what she had often thought about.

She could still feel the pain that laced her entire body as she was impaled with sword after sword, the heel of Gilgamesh's boot digging in under her rib cage, the tearing of Shirou's soul from her own as he slipped from the world and into the void of death.

She had failed him. She had left him so that he would be able to fight Kirei on his own, and he had died because of that stupid mistake of hers. What had she been thinking, exactly? Kirei was a much more skilled mage than Shirou; Kiritsugu had had a hard time in his own battle with the man, and then he'd had another ten years to train. In the meantime, Shirou had only received a total of a few weeks' worth of training in the arts of magic. To allow him to actually try and face him, all by himself, when he had left Avalon with Rin…

She had been such an idiot.

Her entire kingdom, for leading them to disaster… Mordred, for being so cruel to him during life… Lancelot, for not being as attentive to him as she should have and allowing him to wallow in the pit of insanity… Guinevere, for practically forcing her in the position to marry her when she was in love with another, and then being forced to burn her at the stake… The rest of the Round Table, for being such a horrid leader…

And now she could add Shirou's name to the list of people she owed the Grail to, for not being a good enough servant to protect her own master…

It was hard enough thinking of what had just happened in her dream; she wished not to think of what had happened after that final strike between Ea and Excalibur.

The memories of what Gilgamesh had said at his dying moments still haunted her, and she'd had an entire decade to think them over in her head.

Quickly, she calmed herself and stood. If there was one thing that she was good at, it was masking her emotions, and in her life, this was an extremely important skill to possess.

To show fear was weakness, and she would not let the past be what brought out that weakness.

* * *

_2:30 PM_

Gilgamesh had been expecting and hoping to see Kirei at the front doors of the church when he arrived, but in his stead was a young woman who bowed at the pews and bent her head in silent prayer. He could only see the back of her head, and how her long, wavy white hair fanned out around her, nearly glowing in the soft light of candles around the room. He could hear her voice rising and falling softly as she spoke.

He had left the main alter and the woman for a while, searching the rest of the church in hopes of finding the priest with whom he had already fought two Holy Grail Wars, only to find empty rooms.

What a bother.

On his way back to towards the entrance, convinced that he must come back at another time in order to catch the man, Gilgamesh had found the woman again, this time sitting straight, hands in her lap, in a chair that stood next to the doors leading out of the church. Her eyes were focused on him even before he had entered the lobby.

"Is there something that I can help you with?" She wore a polite smile, although he could feel something beneath it. It felt almost sinister, but in a welcome, familiar way.

Gilgamesh observed the woman carefully, arms crossed over his chest. She wore a simple priestess outfit: a black and white dress, with a high collar and long sleeves. Her eyes were a bright golden color.

After a moment of assessing the woman, he finally spoke. "Where is Kirei?"

"You mean Kotomine? Dead, God bless him." Even with the last three words tagged on, she sounded pleased, as if death was something which brought joy to her. She closed her eyes and traced a cross over her chest, whispering something quickly, and then opened them to look at him again. "He died of a heart attack five months ago, so I took over this church. Would you mind me asking why? I was under the pretense that he didn't have any friends."

"He doesn't." He wasn't sure about anyone else, but _Gilgamesh_ most certainly wasn't friends with Kirei. There would only ever be but one worthy of being his companion, and Kirei was as far from that as possible. "He's an old acquaintance; I just came to grace him with my presence." And have him take Iris's command seals. That woman was unfit to be his master; she was nothing but a nuisance.

Too late now. He would just have to find someone else to take her place.

The priestess smiled at him politely again. "Yes, well, I'm dearly sorry about that. But perhaps you would be kind enough to sit and bless _me_ with your presence instead."

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes at the invitation. "I haven't the notion, woman. This has just been a complete waste of my time."

He headed towards the front door as the woman sighed, closing her eyes. "It's too bad," she said as he placed his hand on the handle. "And I was just wondering what a servant was doing here without their master, too…"

Gilgamesh turned, slightly impressed.

He was wearing clothes normal to the time period (he had nearly wiped out all of Iris's money by buying an outfit that suited his tastes: a silken white shirt, a black coat with fur lining the sleeves, and a pair of jeans), so he wouldn't have stuck out by appearance. Although, if she possessed even the smallest abilities in magic detection, his golden radiance would have given him away rather easily. Even so, it must have taken quite some bravery for this woman to confront him about it.

She motioned for him to sit in the chair next to her, so he did.

"My name is Caren Ortensia," she introduced herself, that same polite smile touching her lips. "I'm Kotomine's daughter."

* * *

_5:45 PM_

There had been a summoning circle under her rug.

Iris had discovered this after a long search through her house, using her (admittedly armature) magical detection skills. At first, it had just been a little buzzing in the back of her head whenever she stepped over it, but when she picked the rug up, she'd smelled something foul that made her want to shrivel up into a ball. When she had forced herself to touch the surface of the flooring and traced out the smooth dried liquid which must have been blood, she found that it formed a familiar shape that her parents had taught her a long time ago.

When had she left her parents alone in that house? Iris had had very little time mull this over the night before, as Archer had terrified her enough so that she was in a rush to do everything as soon as possible- withdrawing her money from the bank, making sure to call Hayley to tell her she wouldn't be attending classes for quite some time, booking flights... But now, as she was alone in an unfamiliar inn which her servant had dropped her off at and left, she had time to straighten out her thoughts.

Her parents must have done that when she first moved into the house. It was the first and only thought that came to mind. Making those circles took time, and she doubted that they would have been able to take in a few buckets of blood without her knowing. In the chaos of moving, she had left for a few hours of classes while they "moved some boxes around."

The more she thought about it, the more she felt betrayed by them. How could they practically sign up their only daughter for a war in which only one person could come out alive?

Then again, she probably should have seen this coming. For her tenth birthday, when she was just beginning to train in magic, Iris's father had given her a rock. Not a very conventional gift for a child, she realized as she reflected on it. And not only that, but after, her father used to tuck her in bed and tell all sorts of stories about the ancient kingdom that rock had been a part of, and about the king who built the walls the rock had once been. The tale of Gilgamesh was no stranger to her because of this, and that was what made her realize that her parents had been planning to send their only child on a suicide mission for quite some time.

Maybe it was a punishment for being born without the sense which people called "sight." Maybe her parents thought this would make her come out a better mage (if she came out at all). Maybe they thought it would be some sort of funny joke, sending the blind girl out to die. Or maybe they would have done this to her, whether she was born with sight or not.

She didn't know. She would probably never know, either, because there was only a one person out of seven that would live, and she already had a very distinct disadvantage.

These thoughts plagued her like a virus. As she sat still on the couch in a silent, unfamiliar room, her breathing began deepen and her heartbeat quickened considerably. She could feel the shroud of her impending death descending upon her mercilessly.

Legs shaking, she stood and stumbled over to the counter at the corner of the room. Her hands fumbled along the surface for a moment before she felt her fingers brush the room key. She quickly seized it and stuffed it into her pocket before grabbing a cane from next to the door and making her exit.

A few flights of stairs later and she felt a cool wind whip through her hair and the heat of the sun on her cheeks. She was quickly pulled into a crowd of bodies. Iris walked slowly, tapping her cane along the ground and listening to the honking of cars, the voices of anonymous people. Having someone there, around her, was comforting, even if she didn't know any of these people.

Every now and then, she could feel with her cane how the pavement would drop, and in response she would locate a person at her shoulder to ask if it was safe to cross. They would act uncomfortably towards her, probably not exactly sure how to answer. She could already hear their thoughts: "Should a blind person be walking out here by herself?" "Is she really safe like this?" "Should I call someone?"

The answers were probably "no," "no," and "yes," but Iris quite honestly didn't give a damn. Besides, she was managing just fine; she did this all the time back at home, where almost everyone in town knew her simply for the fact that she was the blind Japanese woman that studied psychology. Hardly anyone there ever interrupted her during her daily walks, aside from some friends that she would come across every now and then. And she always took great care in where she went, making sure that she knew the direction she had come from and how many turns she had made.

But, she would admit, maybe this wasn't the wisest of ideas. After all, she did live in a relatively small community, and she knew that Fuyuki was a large city.

Then again, who cared? She'd probably be dead in less than a month, anyway.

At this last thought, she stopped in her tracks, letting a stream of people flow around her, and took some deep breaths to once again try and calm herself. Maybe she should turn and go back to the inn. She could easily get lost or wander into the wrong side of town if she made a wrong turn. And this time, if that happened, she wouldn't know any of the people around her. Plus, it was dangerous. What if another master happened to be passing by? She'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble, then.

With this thought in mind, she turned, directions in mind (_I need to go straight past three lights, take a right, another straight, two lefts-_), only to find that she had actually managed to ram into another person, their foreheads colliding rather painfully and causing Iris to drop her cane as she rubbed at the afflicted injury that the impact had caused.

"I am so sorry," she muttered half-heartedly, bending down and fanning her hands against the concrete in order to find the cane that she had dropped.

She heard an unimpressed snort, and, as if by magic, the object was thrust into her hands, followed by an aggravated voice. "You shouldn't be out here on your own, ma'am."

There it was. She just knew someone would say it eventually. She took the cane from the person's hands- she was unable to distinguish from the voice as to whether they were a man or woman, just that they were young- and twisted her mouth into a frown. "I don't think that I need anyone telling me that, but thanks, anyway. I'll be fine by myself."

The other person let out a deep sigh as she began to walk past him, just barely brushing their shoulder in the process, but grabbed her wrist. "I don't think you understand what part of town you're in," they told her, now making her feel slightly intimidated. She tried to pull her wrist free, but the other person held tightly. "There are a few men watching you right now, and I don't think they intend to help you cross the street."

She froze for a moment, not sure how to react or what to think. Either this person was a rapist looking for an excuse to lead her out into a dark alley, or they were telling the truth and were simply concerned for her safety. Either way, she didn't like it.

Reluctantly, she released a deep breath and turned to the person, who let go of her wrist, and crossed her arms. "And what do you suggest that I do? Let you lead me into some alley, where I will be completely at your disposal? No thank you; I think I'll take my chances with going back by myself."

There was a stronger tang of defense in the person's voice as they replied this time, as if they had just been insulted. "Look, I'm just trying to offer some protection. Feel free to ignore me and get raped by a bunch of thugs, though." She could hear their feet as their shoes click against the pavement, walking away from her. _"Try to be a gentleman, and she just completely shoots me down,"_ she heard him mutter darkly. (Faintly, in the back of her mind, she connected with the word "gentleman" and realized that this person was male.) _"What's wrong with women nowadays?"_

Iris hesitated for a moment. She couldn't detect any form of malice or dishonesty in their voice, and she was fairly confident in her skills to detect lies, so she didn't think this guy meant any harm. She didn't quite like the thought of being followed by a bunch of men at all. Yes, she could probably defeat them quite easily using her magical abilities if worse came to worst, but she didn't want things to have to come to that. With a sigh, she reached out and caught the young man's sleeve.

"OK, then," she tried to reason with him. "How about you 'protect' me while I grab some dinner, and I'll buy you something to eat, too?"

She could hear him snort, but he sounded less offended than before. "Fine, but I'm buying my own food. I'm not about to make a lady pay."

"Very chivalrous," she told him sarcastically. Honestly, though, she was glad. After Archer had bought something for himself to wear, most of her money had been completely wiped out. Why did her servant after to be both utterly terrifying _and_ expensive?

Besides, she needed someone to locate a restaurant and read the menu to her.

The person- she was still unsure as to whether she should call him a man or a boy, as he sounded like he was around her age group, either in his late teens or early twenties- lead her off to the side of the street. She heard a door creak open, and then there was the jingling of bells. "Ladies first," he said.

She was careful to make sure she remembered where she came in from before she stepped into the building. A moment later, the door jingled again and she could hear her new companion walk to her side. In a moment, they were both seated. Almost immediately, there was the sound of a phone vibrating, and boy- man? Whatever- excused himself to go to the restroom.

It sounded like she was the only one in the entire restaurant, for she was completely encompassed in silence.

Iris fingered her napkin silently, and she suddenly had thoughts of the Grail War back in her head, tapping on the door of her mind, begging to be let in. She buried her face in her arms and began to breath heavily again. Her heart was pounding inside of her head, and it only grew quicker and quicker with every passing moment until it became so quick, so deafening, that she felt as if she was going to puke. Her arms began to shake, and tears formed in the corner of her eyes at the thought of how many agonizing ways that she could possibly die.

Impaled by sword, spears, of arrows. Her body set in flames. Limbs torn apart slowly and cruelly. Beaten to the point of numbness and left to bleed out…

"You OK?"

His voice was dull, weary, but there was also a sound close to panic laced in his voice.

Still, his voice came suddenly, and it had nearly terrified her. A small squeak escaped her mouth and, still breathing heavily, she lifted her head from her shaking arms.

"What-"

"Oh, God, I need to get out of here," she muttered, suddenly standing, only to fall back down when the tops of her legs hit the bottom of the table. She tried again, this time scooting herself out of her chair first. Quickly, she grabbed ahold of her cane, only to find it yanked out her hands.

"Lady, you need to calm down."

Her hands shook as she reached out to try and find the cane that had been taken from her, only to find a shirt. "Give it back to me, damn it! I need to get out of here, _right now_!"

She didn't know why she was yelling; in all honesty, she didn't care. She focused on her trembling hands and the feeling of wetness on her cheeks, the way the air came and went out of her system in seemingly the same breath.

_Oh, God_, she realized, _I'm hyperventilating_.

Maybe it was this thought which made her allow the boy- she could no longer think of him as any more, since she could now feel his thin arms and short height (he was just about as short as her)- to lead her out of the restaurant and back out to the streets. She let him, in the lull of the honking of cars and chattering of people lining the streets, ask where she lived, and she let him take her to the inn.

As they walked, she slowly regained a sense of calm and dried her eyes with her slightly quivering arms, delighting in the sensation of her turtle-neck's soft cloth.

Once the boy stopped walking and she knew that she was in front of her room in the inn, she pulled her keys out of her pocket and quickly found the key hole before entering her room immediately making her way to the boxes that lined her walls. She could tell that the boy had not left yet by the fact that she could not hear any retreating footsteps; he was probably taking in the emptiness of the room.

"You just moved in."

"No. I just like tripping over boxes." She was still out of breath, and found the no matter how much she had calmed, there was still panic in her system. Just attempting to add sarcasm to her tone had nearly taken it out of her. She continued her search.

"What are you looking for?" His footsteps told Iris that he was coming closer to her, in order to investigate, no doubt.

"My stereo," she replied. She needed some noise right now. She didn't care what it was, but any form of noise would be a welcome gift to her; even the sound of cardboard scrapping together was like music to her ears at the moment.

Another box was being opened next to her. She ignored the boy and continued feeling around in her current box. Not there. She went to the next one-

"Found it."

"Thanks. You mind plugging it into the nearest outlet and turning it on?"

As he did as he was instructed, Iris decided that it was time to fix the dusty smell in the room. She found some candles and a lighter, and began to move around the room, placing the candles on top of counters or any free space available and lighting them. Soon, sweet scents of peas and garden rain filled her nose, and she was pleased. Exhausted, she found the couch and allowed herself to collapse on top of it, taking in the sound of static that began to fill the air.

"… Thank you," she muttered. "Thank you _so much_."

She sat up and stuck a hand out into the air, waiting patiently. In a few moments, she felt a soft grasp, and their hands moved up and down together. "Morgan," he told her, a slight hesitation in his voice.

"Oh, so you're foreign, too," Iris said, leaning back onto the couch with a mighty sigh. "My name's Iris."

There was a soft snorting noise. "'Too?' You look about as Japanese as they can get."

"My _parents_ are Japanese," she explained, lips twitching downward at the unpleasant thought of her parents. "I've lived in America for as long as I can remember, so, as far as I'm concerned, I'm American. Where are you from?"

"England, so let's just agree to speak English, then." He paused for a moment, his words hanging around in the air. And then: "You sure you should have all of these candles out?"

When he began to speak again, his accent was most definitely English, as he had claimed, and yet it seemed a little different to her, somehow distinctly different from any of the English accents that she had ever heard before. She wasn't about to let this enigma distract her from the real issue at hand, though.

Iris laughed darkly and shook her head. "What? Just because I'm blind, I can't take care of myself?"

"Didn't look like it a moment ago," he deadpanned.

Quickly, Iris sat back up, scowling. "Look, Morgan. Thanks for the help and everything, but I don't need to be told what to do or how to live my life. I've been on my own for over a year now, and I'm sure that even if I was hyperventilating earlier, I could have handled myself just fine." She huffed, arms crossed.

"Whatever you say, lady." Morgan sighed, and Iris could hear how his hands shuffled quietly, probably moving around in his pockets, before something smooth and thin was dropped into her hands. She used her hands to try and get a better feel of the object, and discovered that it was a ribbon. "Do me a favor and tie back your hair, OK? I think you'd look prettier without all that bed-head flying around."

At this, Iris felt a faint warmth in her cheeks. To her, "pretty" had always been scents and sounds, shapes and textures, so she had never quite understood the concept of "looking" pretty. What did it really matter?

Still, it had always made her feel warm inside to be told that she was pretty. But, even then, most people never told her such things, afraid that it would somehow hurt her feelings. As far as she was concerned, she had known all her life that she was blind; what would one person reminding her of that really matter?

Hesitantly, she pulled her hair back, catching her bangs in her fingers-

"No, keep the bangs," Morgan instructed somewhat hoarsely. "Adds mystery."

She took a moment to contemplate the possible meaning behind what he had meant, but then shrugged it off and dropped her bangs back into her face. It sounded odd, but who was she to argue about what did and didn't look good?

After she had tied her hair back, she could hear a grin as Morgan's spoke. "There you go. Keep it up, and you'll be flocked with boys in no time." He chuckled a little bit. "Hell, I think I'm being turned on a bit."

"Don't flirt with me." She scowled, and then turned her attention to the static on her stereo. She should probably put some music in; the white noise was beginning to make her head hurt.

Suddenly, Morgan groaned. Iris turned her head into his direction. "Something wrong?"

"It's seven," he told her. "I need to get going."

Iris waved a hand in his direction tiredly, leaning her head back onto the arm of the couch. "Alright, then. Thanks again, Morgan."

"Take care."

Morgan said nothing else, so she listened as his feet made a trail of sound towards the door, which opened and closed a moment later.

Sighing, the young woman eased herself from the couch and made her way back to the boxes. She took the first CD case that she could find and used the sound of static to find her way over to the stereo. Instantly, she popped in the CD. Judging by the cello, it was the Shinshoku Dolce album, which her mother had gotten her as a going away gift when she moved out. She skipped ahead of the first three songs and stopped at Still Doll before heading back to the boxes, feeling much more comfortable.

"Hi, Ms. Alice," she muttered quietly to herself with the music. She found one of her furs very quickly and pulled it out- it must have been the raccoon pelt- before heading back to the couch, humming and playing with the fur absentmindedly. It wasn't long before a voice suddenly interrupted her.

"It seems that you've enjoyed yourself while I was out."

At the sudden appearance of Archer's voice, Iris's back went rigid, and she dropped her raccoon pelt.

"Uh- well, I- I was just-"

"Cease that blubbering," Archer told her dismissively. "I was merely observing."

Iris nodded stiffly, although it looked more like a quick jerk of the head.

There was a pause, and Still Doll continued to play. "What is this?" Archer asked.

"Kanon Wakeshima," she replied.

He might have nodded. He might have not. Then again, Iris found herself asking: Who even cares?

With nothing left to do, she curled herself into a ball against the couch and let her mind drift from consciousness, aware the whole time of Archer's undeniably strong, frightening presence

* * *

"_Hi Miss Alice.  
With glass eyes  
What kind of a dream  
Are you able to have?  
Are you entranced by?_

_For me still_  
_My heart tears apart_  
_And flows out_

_Memories_  
_Pierce into_  
_The mended crevice_

_Hi Miss Alice.._  
_With your sincere lips_  
_to who is love being..._  
_...discarded to?_  
_...grieved to?_

_I again_  
_spin words around..._  
_under a fever._

_Reality, come~_  
_To love is to sing and yet..._  
_I cannot sing..._

_Still, you do not answer."_

**Author's Notes:**

**I've always found the servant-master bond to be something like a connection between two souls (which is why they can sense one another and such), so I'd imagine that the closer the bond they had, the more pain they would feel when their partner died. Thus the reaction that Arturia had when Shirou died.**

**Any servant ideas people have to offer would be very nice. Thus far, I only need a Lancer (oh, God, please help me with this!). So, please, I'm begging you, if you have any ideas for a Lancer please PM them to me. I don't think that I can do this on my own, and I'd be sure to give you credit if you did. **

**Anyone that can guess who "Ms. Alice" is gets a virtual cookie~. Please remember to review! Thanks and bye!**


End file.
